Even Now
by I. heart. Fnick. N. Figgy
Summary: Edward Masen is a regular brown-haired, chocolate-eyed Jew. Isabella Swan is a BETROTHED brown-haired, chocolate-eyed Jew. So what happens when Bella's fiance and Edward's stepdad aren't who they think they are? A concentration camp and some new friends.
1. One Him

Chapter One

Edward Masen

_Icy wind whipped around my face, pushing my bronze hair in at least a million different directions. My breaths were coming out quickly now, my heart trying to keep pace with my wildly racing nerves. My throat was burning like never before as the frost nipped at my already-freezing body. I noticed none of this. My thoughts rested solely on the beautiful face directly in front of me._

_She was silent, unmoving, as if she were a statue. Snow flakes continued to melt on her nose and cheeks. "Help me," she whispered desperately, her breath creating shadows of white on the air. _

_"What can I do?" I asked the face urgently, and then louder again. "What can I do? To help you?!" I lifted my hands to touch her face gently. Her skin was velvety-soft, like silk under my rough, calloused hands. _

_Tears began to run down her ruddy face, leaving a trail behind them. I hurriedly wiped them away. "It's too late. It's too late," she breathed, almost silently. I wrapped my arms around her, trying, to no avail, to contain her, to keep her with me. I couldn't lose her. Not now, not ever. _

_"NO!" I heard myself shout, lifting my cry to the wind. I was too late. I could not save her. I gaped in horror as she faded away from me, slowly, at first, but her speed was rapidly increasing…_

I woke up to my normal room, in my normal bed, as per usual. This time, however, beads of cold sweat had broken out across my forehead. Thoughts of the recurring nightmare still rang fresh on my mind.

There were still many things about this that I couldn't wrap my mind around. Who was this girl? Why did she need _me, _of all people? And why on earth was she constantly invading my dreams? On the contrary, some things I understood with perfect clarity. For instance, it was easy to see why I was so drawn to her. It wasn't just because she wasn't beautiful- though she was, radiantly so- but more because she needed me. And I needed her to need me.

Knowing full well that I wasn't going to get anymore sleep, I pushed the heavy covers away from my legs and hopped out of bed. The house was cold, not unusually so. And I definitely knew why. "Jane," I muttered under my breath. That girl could just as well have been a polar bear with her living conditions.

"Edward!" a shrill voice from behind me sounded. I recoiled. Jane. Of course it was. I groaned.

"What do you want, Jane?" I snapped, more harshly then I'd originally intended. I had to work on that. She was so young, so blameless, yet I was constantly taking my pent-up anger out on her.

"What are you doing up, Edward?" she asked meekly in her singsong voice.

"None of your business." I was being juvenile, and I knew it. It wasn't that I had a problem communicating with my baby sister. She and I were actually fairly close, all things considered. It was just because I knew that she wouldn't understand in this particular situation. Then, how could I expect her to understand? She was so young, so innocent, so uncorrupted. I, for one, would not be the one to change that. She had her entire life to grow up, after all.

"David says you must be crazy or something," she explained thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her short, skinny forefinger. "What do you think he means by that?"

My blood was boiling. David, my _step_father, whom I despised, had been filling my twelve-year-old sister's mind with this… this… nonsense? And she was sucking it up like juice! What was he thinking?

"Stupid kids," a third, husky voice intruded on our conversation. Jane and I jumped. "What are you doing in here? Aren't you supposed to be asleep? What are you, nocturnal?" He was so close to Jane and I that I could both hear and _feel_ his Adam's apple vibrating.

I hissed subconsciously, snaking a protective arm around her. "I was just about to help Janie back to sleep, _David_," I seethed. "We won't be up much longer." It was a promise I couldn't keep, for sure. But when had I ever cared about honesty? I had nothing to prove to this stranger that just so happened to be living in my house.

"You'd better be," he mumbled, turning back toward his and Esme's bedroom.

"Night, David," Jane said cheerfully. I clamped a hand over her mouth, shock written all over my face.

"You're supposed to be the man of the house when I'm not around?" he mocked, slapping my chest as if to make it appear that we were "bonding". "You'd better man up real fast, girly," he said, finally descending into his room.

It wasn't until David was long gone that I began to hear Jane's soft, muffled sobs. I stared at her disbelievingly. Why was she crying?

"What's the matter, Janie?" I asked, trying my best to sound sensitive.

"Why is he so mean to you?" she cried solemnly.

Suddenly, I understood her grief. I hugged her gently, trying not to crush her fragile bones. "You and I both know what he said wasn't true. He's just… angry," I explained, trying to use logic that she could follow. It was true, of course.

I was probably one of the toughest guys in Copenhagen. I was tall, lean, and pretty muscular, if I do say so myself. It was pretty obvious that I was anything _but _weak. Losing my father when I was young had this result. Before David, I had, in fact, been the man of the house, caring for Esme and Jane. I just hoped she wasn't wondering why…

"Why is he angry, Edward?" she asked, practically reading my mind.

"No reason, Janie," I lied unconvincingly.

"Ohh. I get it," she said, more to herself than to me.

"No, you don't," I disagreed immediately, shaking my head at her. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"It is because we're Jews, Edward?" she asked timidly. Afraid of the blow, with good reason.

"NO!" I shouted, not believing my ears. What had she been hearing at school? From her friends? From _David_? I was immediately livid again. David was tearing our family apart!

A fresh film of tears formed in the corner of her big, chocolate-brown eyes.

"Gosh Janie. It's nothing to cry about," I soothed, stroking her brown curls gently.

"You _never _yell at me, Edward," she said pointedly.

Guilt washed through my body and settled in the pit of my stomach. "Go to bed, Jane," I ordered, purposely ignoring her accusation. What could I say to her? That I was sorry for being a jerk? That in the morning everything would be alright? I wanted to comfort my sister, but I could not bring myself to lie to her. She deserved to know the truth, at the very least.

She nodded wordlessly, turning her back to me. "Good night Eddie. I love you."

I smiled in spite of myself. So what if our Jewish father had died, leaving us with some German who, for reasons that were beyond me, my mother was in love with? None of that really mattered, because Jane and I had learned to lean on each other. "Night Janie. I love you, too."

After she was in bed, another set of footsteps clacked against the wooden floor of our kitchen. "Edward?" It was Esme. I hoped we hadn't woken her. She'd be furious. "What are you doing in here? Never mind," she added, not waiting for my answer. She handed me a stack of black-and-white clothing-- a suit! What was this for? "Put this on, quickly now! You're coming with me to the charity ball."

Was she kidding? It was before dawn, wasn't it? "What time is it?" I asked absentmindedly, eyeing the slacks and dress jacket warily. Never in my eighteen years had I seen such intimidating clothing. A tuxedo meant that we'd been invited to a formal event, and that meant that I'd have to communicate with others. The girls I did not worry about so much; they were easy to please. But the young men of our small Copenhagen neighborhood often let their jealousy get the best of them. I'd witnessed this firsthand many times.

"The sun will be rising shortly," she answered, sounding tired. "But we've got a few places to go before then."

"Well, when's this… dance thing?" I demanded. If I was going to leave for some stupid ball this early in the morning, I was going to get my questions answered.

"Tonight, dear," she said, rushing me into the wash room. "Quickly, Edward," were her parting words.


	2. Two Her

**A/N: In case anyone is wondering, I will definitely finish my other EdwardxBella fic. I've just had this one stored for a while, and I wanted to see how it went over with you guys. Please, please, please, please, please review. I'll think about continuing if you do. Haha. Actually, I've already written six chapter. I hope you liked the first one, and if you want Number 3, REVIEW!!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer… but I have dreamed about being her. It rocks. ( :**

Chapter Two

Isabella Swan

"Ugh!" I groaned, trying to pin back yet another dark, annoying curl, to no avail.

"Here, Bella," Mother offered, taking the sparkling clip away from me. "Let me." Finally, as if by magic, it stuck. "Wow, Bells."

I smiled brilliantly, and the image in the old antique mirror copied me. I blinked once, twice, trying to convince myself that I was real. I squealed in delight, and my mother winced. I had to constantly remind myself that, unlike my usual plaid skirt and white blouse, this silken dress was very, _very _fragile. And beautiful. Definitely beautiful. I stood slowly, noting the way the dress fell just past my ankles, the fabric swirling all around my legs. Renee lifted the hem of the dress carefully, sliding my tiny foot into her silver dancing shoes.

"Oh, Bella!" she gasped, taking in my unbelievable appearance, no doubt. "You know what I was just thinking?"

I nodded. I knew exactly what she was thinking about. I knew what she was about to say. And it was most definitely _not _what I wanted to hear on the so-called best night of my life. Was she determined to ruin it for me? Was that it? Did my own mother honestly not want me to enjoy myself while I still could?

"You look just like Charlie," she whispered, as expected.

I sighed deeply, heaving my shoulders in frustration. "No, I do not." But I knew it was true. As if my muddy brown hair and eyes weren't reminder enough. I shook my head redundantly. Father was… dead. Gone. There was no way I looked like him, because he was no more. One could not resemble one that was no longer in existence.

"Come now, Isabella. Just because your father is… deceased, does not mean we have to stop talking of him. You can't keep dancing around the subject, Honey!" she argued.

"Why do you keep talking about him like he's some kind of IDEA?! A passing thought, like he never existed anyway!" I shouted, backing away defensively.

"Bella, stop it!" she ordered, calming me instantaneously. "Keep your eye on the prize."

"The _prize?!_" I asked, clearly disgusted.

"Your future husband," she sang, suddenly blissful. "Mr. Newton is a great man, Bells. Lots of money, too."

"How can you possibly go from talking about someone as wonderful and kind as my father, to talking about someone as disgusting and spiteful as Mr. Michael Newton?" I wondered aloud.

"Isabella Marie Swan, you hush up right now!" she told me. "You'll marry Mr. Newton, and you'll be happy about it. Stop being so selfish!"

"How can you say that?" I whispered. "How can you order me to marry someone I do not love? And at sixteen years old, Mother!"

She rolled her eyes, losing the "loving mother" charade altogether. "Oh, drop it. You're going to marry Mr. Newton, if I have anything to do with it. Besides, he's already asked my permission."

We hadn't always been this way. I could recall a time, ages ago, when we were one big, happy family. That was before my father, Charles Swan, had died fatally, a vehicular accident, as the priest at the funeral had so blindly put it. Now it had come to this.

This was unbelievable. First, I had to marry him, and now he was ready to propose! "What would such a man want with me anyway? We've no money, and I'm not much to look at."

She ignored my inquiry, making her final preparations for the dance. This was going to be a long, endless night, I noted. But at least it couldn't possibly get any worse, right?

Wrong.

"Good evening, Ms. Swan," Michael greeted, kissing my hand seductively. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to dance with him. I tried not to flinch away, to spit in his face. Perhaps Renee was right. Perhaps marrying Mr. Newton would be good for me, for both of us. Still, I couldn't imagine living my entire life as Mrs. Michael James Newton.

What did he see in me? He was so perfect, what with his shining blonde hair and deep, beautiful blue eyes. I'd heard about his kind before. Germans. He _was_ from Germany, if I remembered correctly. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he liked me about as much as I liked him. I was good at reading people, but he was particularly easy.

"So, Bella," he started uneasily. "I hear you've started schooling again."

I nodded politely for what seemed like the billionth time that night. "You've heard correctly. It's been going all right, I suppose," I said, anticipating his next question.

"That's pleasant," he said, spinning me around the room.

The song ended, and I finally excused myself, figuring that "Excuse me while I freshen up a bit," was an acceptable excuse to slip away for a bit.

"Excuse me," I said again, elbowing my way through the never-ending crowd of dancers, bystanders, and gossipers.

And then I saw _him_. I noticed his amazing, dark brown eyes first, then his glowing face, and finally, his charming attire. "Umm… I… umm…" I stuttered, mentally kicking myself. "I was just…"

He smiled, illuminating the ballroom. "Edward," he offered, pushing his hand out in front of him. I shook it numbly, staring into his eyes again.

"I'm… I'm… Bella," I told him softly. "Bella S-Swan."

"Well, I'm delighted to meet you, Bella Swan," he said. "Can I help you with something?"

"How old are you?" I blurted out accidentally, and my cheeks automatically flushed. "I-I'm terribly sorry. It's just… you look so…"

"Familiar?" he asked knowingly. I nodded. Where had I seen him before? "Dreams, I guess." He sounded disappointed, like he thought we'd met before, also. "And I'm eighteen. Young enough, I guess, but I'm beginning to feel like an old man already!"

I giggled, happy to have finally found someone to joke around with in this mass of sticklers. "I know what you mean. _I _just turned sixteen, but it could have been my fortieth birthday for all I know!" I laughed again.

"Your laugh is so… nice," he commented, obviously embarrassed.

"Thanks," I said, barely above a whisper. "Yours, too."

"Bella!" Michael breathed a sigh of relief, as if I'd been gone for decades. "There you are. I thought you'd been kidnapped!" He looked at Edward warily, as if he'd just noticed him standing there. "You _weren't _kidnapped, I assume?"

"No. No, no, no, no!" I coughed. "Edward and I were just… talking. Right, Edward?"

"Right," he agreed nonchalantly, taking Michael's mental threat into consideration. "Just talking."

"Very well then," Michael tensed, taking my hand and leading me back towards the dance floor. "This way, Ms. Swan."

"Thank you," I mouthed over my shoulder, unwillingly following after him. "Lifesaver!"

He only nodded. I hoped he realized how truly grateful I was. This stranger. This familiar stranger, who had taken me by surprise and consumed my thoughts for every moment afterwards… I hoped he knew.


End file.
